Indiana Jones: The Knights Templar Treasure
by NathanThompson
Summary: A chapter story I plan to write that follows Indiana Jones before the Raiders of the Lost Ark, looking for the treasure of The Knights Templar Treasure. Please leave reviews or comments if you find this interesting or would like to read the full version
1. Plot Preview

The Knights of Templar were a religious military order formed in 1119 AD that protected Christians on their journey to the holy lands. Over the decades, donations from patrons made the Knights Templar the wealthiest military order in Europe. For two hundred years, the Knights Templar collected a fortune of land, silver, gold, jewels and precious objects. In 1291 AD the Templar had failed and were kicked out of the Middle East. By permission of the pope in 1307, Phillip IV arrested the leaders of the order in France and tortured them into confessions of devil worship. He raided the treasure from their seized land but found a lot less than expected. The rest of the knights managed to keep their treasure hidden until a month passed and Pope Clement II instructed heads of state to arrest all Templars and seize their possessions. But this order was only partially carried out, and the treasure of the Knights of Templar has never been found. Not only is the treasure a mystery, but what happened to the men that were never arrested. Thousands of men along with several ships vanished. In one case, on the night of October 12th, 1307, 18 ships at La Rochelle, France, set sail right before the persecutions and fell out of existence. The vast treasure was believed to be worth billions of dollars and it was never recovered.

This story consists of events that take place before The Raiders of the Lost Ark, and follow Indiana Jones who has been recruited by a European historian to find the treasure. The historian, Robert Fowwe, believes that the ships wandered the Atlantic ocean until they hit Santa Maria, an island off the coast of Europe that was uncharted at the time. After being flown to the island, Jones discovers a group of men that have been looking for the treasure ever since the island was discovered in 1427 but have had no luck. After attempting to steal a map that was recently discovered by the men, he only gets half, and Indiana soon has an entire army of men trying to kill him. With only half of the map, he is lost and being chased by angry treasure hunters, fueled by the desire for fortune. Struggling to survive, will Indiana be able to find the treasure and escape the island even after the 500 years of unsuccessful excavation? Read Indiana Jones: Treasure of the Knights Templar to find out


	2. Drinks and a Gunfight

I walked through the busy streets of Moscow, attempting to find the restaurant, "The Jade Plate," translated from Russian. The man I was meeting was a well-known treasure hunter and ran archeological digs all across the country. He wasn't one to donate it to a museum, he'd rather keep it or sell it for an absurd sum of money to some enthusiast. But Brody said he was willing so I had agreed to meet him.

Ofcourse, I wasn't stupid enough not to bring a gun. I knew that these deals often went south and a gunfight was always an option. As I turned a corner it began to rain, but thankfully I spotted the restaurant just down the road. I waited impatiently for the cars and tried to cross the street early. I got swore out in Russian or Ukrainian, not sure which, but got to the other side and to the front entrance. It was a high class establishment. Waitors wore suits and the building was packed full of people. I walked up to the front desk.

"Table for one?" The woman asked with a thick accent.

"No, I'm here to meet Nicolai Azarov." I explained.

She turned her head and didn't put much effort into looking around. "There is no one here with that name. We are full tonight, sir."

An older man, about fifty, stood up from the nearest table. He whispered something to the woman and she nodded. She walked me to the table and handed me a menu and a wineglass. Returning to her post, I sat down but was careful not move my chair in. "Sorry about that, Dr. Jones, Azarov is my allias. I'd rather not share my true first name."

"That's quite alright, I'm just here to discuss the artifact you mentioned in your letter." I assured.

He smiled, "Straight down to business, the only think I like about you Americans. But first some drinks," He paused and waved at our waitor, a younger man with a bald head. "I'll have a scotch on the rocks and my associate will have a-"

"-Scotch, neat." I answered.

The waitor scribbled it down on a notepad and left the table. Azarov pulled a small burlac sack from underneath his chair and placed in on the table. "We just uncovered this a month ago. It appears to be from the medieval period but we're not experts." He explained, pulling the string at the top. He poured the contents out onto the table, a jewel encrusted silver cup, a golden dagger with a pair of initials carved into the blade, and atleast a dozen golden coins. I removed my glasses from the inside of my jacket and inspected the dagger. The initials were HF and they were beautifully engraved. The hilt was leather woven and the dagger was so sharp I cut my finger by just running my finger over the tip of the blade. The silver cup was inperfect, probably made by a combination of silver and a common metal like iron or steel. The jewels were blue, sapphires by my guess, and they shined in the dim light of the restaurant.

I sat back in my chair. "This are in very good condition," I said, "Where did you find them?"

"Well if I told you that Dr. Jones then you could take over our excavation site and take the artifacts from the source. And then I wouldn't make any money, now would I?" He held a grin which I managed to match. Our drinks came a moment later but they had brought us two scotch on the rocks. Azarov didn't notice so I just ignored it. "Now how much money are we looking at here? Brody told me that you'd be willing to pay a hefty check."

I finished my scotch and put the glass down. "I'd say about fifteen thousand for the entire set."

His smile faded. "Only fifteen thousand dollars? Are you mocking me? This is easily worth double that. Silver, sapphires, and gold, it's worth a small fortune!"

I shook my head. "You'll take the fifteen thousand or I will fly home." I said in a harsh tone. "Our museum is not capable of funding a purchase of that magnitude.

Azarov stood up from the table, "I will not let you cheat me like his. You damn capitalists think you can walk all over the guy just trying to make a quick buck?"

"This has nothing to do with politics Azarov, I'm telling you we don't have the money. I only brought a fifteen thousand dollars with me and that's all that I will pay." I reached for my revolver but he drew his faster. I made an obvious mistake.

"You will give me that money, but I will not give you these artifacts. You will walk out of this restaurant and you will fly back home to the shithole you call America." I reached into my jacket pulled out half of the wad of cash. I threw it down on the table.

"Hold on, I have more in here somewhere..." I trailed off and smiled, "Here it is." I pulled out my revolver and shot him in the shoulder. He pulled the trigger but his aim was off and thankfully missed me by a hair.

"Okay, okay! I will accept the fifteen thousand!" I fished out the rest of the payment and sat it down. I cleared the artifacts off the table and pushed them into the sack. Keeping my gun on him, I slowly backed out of the restaurant. He didn't move but I across the room someone pulled out a machine gun. They pulled the trigger and ammuntion sprayed in my direction. I made it out the door which absorbed most of the bullets. I ran out into the street with no clear direction where to go. The airport was on the other side of the city and there was no way I could walk there. Down the road I could see a horse drawn carriage parked outside a hotel. The door burst open and the man along with Azarov were holding guns. I broke into a sprint before they could take aim and headed towards the horses. Bullets hit the sidewalk around me and flew past my head. A stray hit me in the leg and I tripped and fell flat on my stomach. This wasn't going as great as I expected.

They caught up to me and rolled me over to point their barrels in my face. I reached for my gun but it had fell into the road after I fell. I was too far away to grab it. I closed my eyes and clenched my fists. Azarov stood over me, "Did you think I'd be foolish enough to forget to bring backup?"

"No, and I didn't forget mine either." I laughed.


	3. Escape from Moscow

Bullets sunk into their backs. I pulled myself up off the ground as they collapsed. The shooter wore a brown suit and red tie, which matched the wide smile engraved on his face. Robert Fowwe, a fellow acheologist and pilot from the great war. He knew his way around a gun and had just joined the museum's staff a week ago. "Pretty good shot, don't you think?" He asked, waving his pistol around. I picked up my revolver.

"Not bad," I said. I picked up Azarov by the collar of his shirt to check if he was still concious. He had a bullet in the back of the skull. "I could've done better, though."

"Ah, we needed him alive didn't we?" He asked, dissapointed.

The goon that laid beside him began to move. He tried to crawl away. I kicked him over and pointed my gun in his face, "Where's the excavation site?" I asked. He shook his head and spit in my direction. "I don't know if he understood me. You speak Russian, right Fowwe?"

He nodded and hurried over, "We need to get this over with soon, I'm surprised we haven't heard from the police, yet. Or whatever passes for law enforcement around here." Sirens wailed in a distance.

"Well, there goes that." I sighed.

Fowwe pieced together some Russian, hoping the goon could understand him. He shook his head again a tried to spit, only coughing up blood. "He's not saying anything." He explained.

"Doesn't matter, this trail is a dead end anyway. Let's just get what we came for and go." I said, picking up the sack of artifacts.

He pointed down the street to a dark alleyway. "We need to get off the streets and sneak our way around to the airport."

I put my hand over the wound in my leg. "That might be a problem, I'm bleeding pretty bad here." The sirens were getting louder. He took off his jacket and quickly wrapped it around my leg, tying the sleeves in a knot. He took off in a sprint for the alley and I tredged behind him, trying to keep up. We made it into the alley just as the police cars came around the corner. There were four of five of them. Most of them parked at the restaurant to investigate the murder but one of them drove past it, heading our direction.

"Do you think he sees us?" Fowwe asked.

"I don't know. If he see's us, we're at a dead end. Where do we go from here?" As I said it, I spotted the fire escape that hung above us. The ladder was just a few feet out of my reach. Fowwe followed my gaze but his head darted back to the street. The cruiser slowed and parked on the curb. The driver stepped out with a rifle in his hands. Fowwe gave me a boost up to the ladder. The entire structure lurched. The driver turned his head. I prayed he couldn't see us in the darkness. He turned back to the car and reached inside. He pulled out a flashlight.

I climbed up the ladder and kicked it down for Fowwe. He followed me up as I continued up the stairs. The officer turned on the flashlight and the cone shone on the base of the ladder. He pointed it up and found Fowwe standing on the platform with pistol in hand. He fired once but missed and cracked the window of the car. He dropped the flashlight and fired blindly into the darkness, screaming in Russian, probably calling after the rest of the officers.

Fowwe caught up to me and put his arm around my shoulder, helping me up the stairs. "Faster," he said, dragging me along. When the officer ran out of the bullets another one had caught up to him. Before he could shoot after us we made it to the roof.

"That was too close, how far are we from the airport?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Not as far as I thought. But still pretty far." On the other side of the building, in a nearly empty street, I saw the same horse drawn carriage from earlier. Its driver was standing off to the side smoking a cigarette.

"We can steal those horses and make a run for the airport. There's no time to sneak through the rest of the city." I said.

"That would work if we could find another way down from here." He said, looking around. There was no roof access door and there was no second fire escape on the other side of the building. The drop was about three stories but below there was an oak tree growing a few feet off the ground. Fowwe knew was I was thinking and he didn't like it. "No, there's no way I'm jumping into a tree, Jones!"

I looked down at the drop. I felt the wind brush against my skin. "It's worth a shot." I said, stepping off the edge. I've done a lot dangerous things in my life, and this wasn't even on my top ten list. But when I landed it felt like all of the wind was knocked out of me. I had landed in an awkward position, I landed stomach down on a sturdy branch and I felt my back crack. I tried to climb down but was scratched by a few hundred thorns all at once. It wasn't an oak tree, that was for sure. I let go and dropped down the rest of the way, my back cracking again, this time slightly into place.

"Jones, you alive down there?" Fowwe called after me.

"Yeah, just be careful. It's full of thorns." I shouted up to him. The man across the street looked at me funny. It wasn't everyday two yankees jumped off a building, atleast not in Moscow. I pulled my revolver from my pocket and pointed it at him. "Hello, I'm afraid I'm going to need your carriage." I explained. He put his hands up and dropped his cigarrete. Fowwe fell down from the building and landed in the branches.

He cursed under his breath, "Why did you let me do that?" He groaned in pain. He dropped down the last six feet or so and caught up with me across the street. I had already got into the carriage and had everything ready. He climbed into the passenger side and I waved good bye to the man who was shaking in either fear or confusion. The sirens of increasing police cruisers echoed through the city. Two turned onto our street ahead of us and I quickly snapped the reins. The horses sputtered and moved forward quickly instead of their leisurely pace. Fowwe shot a few bullets at their windshields and they swerved off the street onto the sidewalks.

I snapped the reins a few more times, increasing our speed and taking a right. We were on a straight path now. Just a mile or so and then we'd take another right to the airport. There were more cars in this part of town. Civilians and less police, which would surely change soon. I was worried I wouldn't be able to weave through the evening traffic but they mostly avoided us. When we got a red traffic light we kept going, causing entire intersections to screech to a hault. More and more sirens chimed in.

Every once in a while there would be an officer on the sidewalk that would try to shoot at us. Fowwe would shoot back, just to warn them, and made sure not to actually kill any of them. Two guys dead was enough.

We turned a right and followed the road to find a barricade of police cruisers at the entrance of the airport. They blocked both the terminal and the side entrance that lead directly to the runway. "How are we going to get through? There's no other way out of the city." Fowwe said as I slowed down the horses. They hadn't seen us yet, but when they did they'd probably shoot on sight.

I unlatched the horses from the carriage. "What are you doing?" Fowwe asked.

"Ever riden a horse before?" I asked.

"Once, back when I was a kid." He said.

"Ever fall off?" I asked.

"A few times, actually." He laughed, getting up on the saddle.

"Well let's try not to do that. We can squeeze through the barricade as long as we go in one horse at a time. You can go first. Get to the hangar and start up the plane." I explained.

"Alright, what are you going to do?" He asked.

"While they get into their cars and try to run after you, I'll shoot our their tires and catch up." I said, patting him on the back. "It'll be a cake walk, I'll follow your lead."

He struggled to keep balance, but he managed to get the horse moving. The officers at the side entrance shouted at him but the horse slipped through the gap and galloped away towards the hangar. They all scattered and got into their cars, just as I said. I fired the last of my bullets at them, taking out a tire per car. My last shot missed and the cruiser made it out of the barricade, chasing after Fowwe. "Damn it," I said, kicking my horse into a sprint. It made it through the barricade and desperately tried to catch up to the cruiser. Fowwe was already at the hangar but the cruiser was almost there already. Fowwe had dismounted his horse and climbed aboard the plane. By the time the officer got there he had turned on the engines.

The cop got out of his car and pulled out a rifle. He shot at the windshield of the plane but missed the both times he tried. The plane moved forward, about to run him over. As the officer was aiming down the sights, about to shoot Fowwe, the wing hit him in the head and pushed him down on his back. My horse managed to catch up and I jumped off and onto the wing. The officer tried to get up, he probably had a concussion by the looks of it. I opened the door to the plane and stuck my foot inside. Looking back at the officer who was now on his feet, I waved, "Don't worry, I'll send you a post card when we get home!" I slipped inside and slammed the door shut.

The plane took off the runway and up into the air, our course set for New York. "That was a close one, Jones." Fowwe said, sitting back in his chair. "You know I've had an exhibition ready for the last few months but I was looking for the right guy to come along. You interested?" He asked.

"Well," I said, looking through the bag. "Seeing as how we made off with a fortune worth of artifacts, I'd say we make a good team. What's the assignment?"

He smiled, "The Knight's Templar Treasure."


End file.
